


The Force Behind It All

by Evealle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evealle/pseuds/Evealle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Moriarty acts the part of a stereotypical villain, and Mike Stamford strays from the light and back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Force Behind It All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for "Partying Shernanigans" on the prompt of a "‘Good’ Character Becoming an Antagonist, or Vice Versa"
> 
> The Moriarty you need to picture is an extremely exaggerated version of the one in the show. This one's more rubbing his hands together, laughing evilly, twirling an imaginary mustache, and cackling "Eheheh, I am the Consulting Criminal!"

“You understand what you have to do?” 

Mike Stamford gave a brief nod. “Yes, sir.” He didn’t look at the consulting criminal circling around him. It was a shadowy room, the only kind such a devious criminal would work in.

“Tell me.” Moriarty instructed him, obviously not believing the assurance. “What is it you have to do?”

“Arrange Sherlock Holmes to take John Watson as his flatmate.” It wasn’t like it’d be hard. Sherlock had been looking for one. On Moriarty’s order, Mike had said he could help him find one.

”And why are we doing that?” Moriarty prompted, standing at Mike’s shoulder. 

“It’ll drive him crazy, stuck with someone so dull.” 

Moriarty began to giggle, an evil little laugh. “Yes,” he purred. “I’ve spoken with John Watson’s therapist. He’s suffering from PTSD. He’s traumatized. He’s hardly the companion for Sherlock Holmes. He won’t inspire Sherlock the way he needs to.  He’ll turn our little detective’s mind inside out with boredom…And then the next step of our plan will commence. He will become my  _pet_. He would do anything even slightly more exciting than sharing a couple of rooms with England’s dullest man.”

Stamford had never mentioned to Jim Moriarty that John had actually been quite and interesting bloke when they were at Barts together. But the criminal mastermind was convinced that the army doctor was completely damaged from the war and would be a limp mass huddled in the corner. Still, he wasn’t paid to point out the flaws in what he’d been told was an ingenious plan. He just carried it out.

—-

“John! John Watson!” 

John turned around. And was surprised to see an old acquaintance from when he was at Bart’s. What was the chance of bumping into Mike Stamford here? 

—-

“What?!” Moriarty exclaimed, drawing the word out as far as he could. He sat at the ‘Planning Evil Plans Table’ and ripped up the papers in front of him as he yelled.

“Yes,” Mike replied, calmly witnessing the destruction. The tantrums were hardly unusual.

“Almost like  _friends_?” Moriarty inquired. “Sherlock’s never been this cheerful?”

“Not around me. He says he and John are getting on fine.”

“And from him that’s saying they’re practically in love,” Moriarty mused, his fingertips pressed together. “Perhaps this plan didn’t go quite right…We shall try again!” he announced.

“Excuse me?” Mike frowned. What was Moriarty preparing to do with John? Casually toss him off a cliff? Shoot him as quietly as possible and shove the body under the couch in hopes no one would notice? Surely if the plan didn’t work the first time it wasn’t worth trying again. First sign of insanity…

“Yes.” Moriarty smiled viciously, sitting up slightly. “ _You_  are obviously the dullest man there is. John Watson shall be disposed of. You shall take his place. Let’s just hope you’re a bit more successful than he.”

Mike Stamford just stared at his boss for a moment, eyes slightly wide. “Right.” He nodded after a pause. “Right.” He picked his coat up off his chair. “I’m off. You’re  _insane_.”

“You’re just getting that now?” He heard Moriarty call after him as he slammed the door to the darkened laboratory. 

Jim Moriarty slumped in his chair, the ‘Supreme Commander’ chair. “Damn,” he muttered to himself. “I need myself a new henchman.” 


End file.
